


Welcome to the Fold

by Lady_Otori



Category: Naruto
Genre: All Your 2003 Feelings in One Fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And knows how to use them, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Corporate drama, F/M, Music Industry AU, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Sakura has Muscles, Slow Burn, Subverting expectations, Team Seven as a Band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 20:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18746101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Otori/pseuds/Lady_Otori
Summary: She looks like a record producer's dream: pastel pink hair and eyes so green Sasuke's sure she's wearing contacts. The kind of girl Uchiha Studios pushes as an idol for all ages, inoffensive, sweet, more sugar than substance. But Sakura's appearance has always been deceiving, because she's good at what she does. She's very, very good.





	1. Title of Record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this, I don’t even know. I’ve wanted to write a Team 7 Music AU for like fifteen years, so this is basically a big tribute to my teenage self. I’m going to go full 2003 and put song lyrics at the start of every chapter and I’ll probably reveal my age with my ancient music references. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I liked writing it!
> 
> “This girl’s tryin’ to kill me...” - It’s Gonna Kill Me by Filter

 

Sakura doesn’t like the way the record executive on the right is frowning, but she likes the slight leer on the left one’s face even less. Glancing to her right, Ino’s singing her heart out, her soaring soprano ringing with all the clarity of genuine skill and all Sakura can think is _what am I doing here?_

She knows their voices can synchronise beautifully. Knows that she can sing, too. But when faced with the silent judgement of the aces of Uchiha Studio’s production team, she can’t help but think she’s been destined to fail since she opened her mouth.

Their duet peters off and it’s not with a bang but a fizzle. Ino swings her baby blues towards her, concerned. They’ve been best friends since the womb, and the other woman knows Sakura as well as she knows herself: knows her well enough to realise they’ve blown the audition, too.

“Thank you for your time,” Sakura manages to choke out, giving the two men a short bow. She’s nothing if not well mannered.

Ino doesn’t follow suit. She was always more of a diva, and her looks and her talent ensure she gets away with it.

“Yes, thanks,” says the executive on the right, his voice polite but his face disinterested. He’s already written them off, Sakura can tell, and she knows enough about the industry to know that from Hatake Kakashi that’s practically a death sentence for your career. With his immaculate suit juxtaposed with messy silver hair and an attitude that screams _I could make you famous, but I can’t be bothered_ , he’s the kind of executive she’s been waking up in a cold sweat over ever since Ino blagged the studio session.

Still, he’s better than his companion. Sakura’s sheltered in a way - as a grown woman, she knows she’s naive - but even she’s well aware of Uchiha Obito’s tactics. He’s the classic example of a talented man from a good family, and he knows how to manipulate both of those benefits to his advantage. There’s rarely a few months go by without someone or another of the Uchiha company’s talents becoming embroiled in a scandal at his expense.

From the way he eyes Ino, it looks like she might be next.

“That was… a treat, ladies,” he says eventually, but he hasn’t looked at Sakura once and she knows what’s coming. They aren’t interested in both of them; she fully expects Obito, at least, to make Ino a separate offer.

“Tell me,” Obito continues, “you look kind of strong…” he looks down at the paper in front of him, “...Sakura-san. Do you dance?”

She doesn’t. Ino’s the dancer, while Sakura prefers to adopt the path of least resistance by leaving the dancefloor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” Shaking her head, Sakura tries not to fidget too hard, but it’s difficult under Kakashi’s blunt disinterest and Obito’s clear disdain.

“I see. How about your vocal range - do you go any higher?”

Sakura keeps shaking her head, surprised that Obito’s even drawing out the farce as long as this. It would be far simpler to make an excuse, ask her to step outside, and then make Ino the solo prize. She’s sure they will: the Yamanaka is that good.

From the way her best friend is slowly tensing beside her she can guess how it will be received.

“Any instruments?”

That’s unexpected, and the young woman jerks her head back from where she’s been appreciating the plush floor of the recording studio.

“Huh?”

“I asked,” Obito drawls, scrawling something down on her form, “do you play any instruments?”

There’s a tense pause, and Sakura’s too busy exchanging a hurried and silent conversation with Ino’s imploring eyes to notice Kakashi sitting up straighter in his seat. Obito is still writing something down - her blatant dismissal, she guesses - and misses the way Ino shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

“No,” Sakura says, after so long that Kakashi’s frown creases his handsome features into a suspicious stare. “I don’t play anything.”

“Nothing at all?” the silver haired exec prompts, almost the first thing he’s said for the whole meeting, and Ino’s hand reaches out to squeeze her own. Sakura squeezes back reassuringly.

“Nope,” she repeats. “I’m sorry.”

“Hm.” Kakashi sounds like he doesn’t believe her, but there’s nothing he can do and she knows it. Just like Sakura knows she’s lying. Regardless, he sits back in his chair with the air of someone who’s finished with the conversation.

“Alright then, girls, thanks for coming in today - we’ll be in touch, okay?”

Obito waves his hand with a false smile and the confidence that his orders will be obeyed. Both young women offer goodbyes and Sakura thinks they might make it out unscathed, when two steps from the door his voice rings out again from behind them.

“Ah, Ino-san,” he says melodiously. Sakura had almost forgotten that in his younger years he’d been a famous singer. “Have I heard your name somewhere before…?”

Sakura hears the squeak of Ino’s high heels as they slide to a stop against the plush carpeted floor. It’s a smart ploy: Obito will most certainly have heard of, if not Ino herself, then the Yamanaka family at large. Her family were one of the country’s most prominent business empires, a floral enterprise that supplies everyone who is anyone with stunning arrangements and eye-wateringly expensive rare blooms.

That includes the Uchiha family on both a business and a private level, and Ino can’t afford to be dismissive of a client. Especially when she’d already leveraged the not-inconsiderable influence of her family to get them this audition in the first place.

 _Oh, yes,_ Sakura thinks as she gives Ino a brave smile and gestures with her head back towards the centre of the room. _He is as good at this as the rest of his family._ The Uchiha are, after all, famous for their ruthless pursuit of talent.

She leaves the room before she can hear Ino struggle against what Sakura has already accepted as the inevitable. There’s a reason she’d been so reluctant to join the blonde on this quest to become famous: it’s obvious Ino’s singing far outstrips her own, and while she is undoubtedly good, she isn’t close enough to the other woman’s skill to hold her own in a professional context.

Yes, they synchronise harmoniously, but as Sakura leans against the chic wallpapered corridor to wait for the news, she knows with certainty that Ino is better going it alone.

Drumming her fingers against the wall, arms folded behind her as she waits almost at attention, Sakura’s too distracted by her gloomy thoughts to notice the other door to the room open down the corridor. Kakashi steps through, all corporate poise, and casts his head up and down the busy thoroughfare before spotting her bright pink hair and making his way towards her.

“Sakura-san,” he greets, surprising her out of her reverie. For a second, she just blinks up at him in shock, and he smiles like he expected it before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card.

She accepts it automatically, moving to give him one of her own before realising he was holding hers in his hand. _He must’ve swiped it off the desk,_ she thinks, bowing her head as she reads his information.

“If you change your mind,” he says, reaching out to tap the number printed in smart black font on the card, “contact me there, okay?”

With that, he ruffles her hair - and she’d be indignant but he does it so charmingly - before turning and loping down the corridor with the lazy pace of someone off to find his next nap.

Sakura frowns, watching him go with the card clutched in her hand.

_Change her mind about what?_

* * *

Later, when they’re in the local bar and Ino’s stopped fuming long enough for Sakura to get a word in edgeways, she brings the business card out and puts it on the sticky table, tapping it apprehensively.

“While Uchiha-san was busy buttering you up,” she says with a laugh at Ino’s scowl, “the other executive came out and gave me this.”

Ino squints down at the innocuous square where it rests half-drowned in the spillage from her drink. They’re both a little drunk: Sakura keeping up with Ino’s anger-fuelled cocktail sampling to the extent where it’s hard to make out the neatly printed words. 

“What is it?” Ino asks, before holding her hand to her chest in shock, “Is that a _hotel key_?! Men are complete-”

“What?!” Sakura cries. “No, Ino-pig, you drunken lout - it’s a business card.”

The beautiful blonde sways next to her on the stool, and even inebriated she draws the attention of various patrons in the cozy little establishment. Next to her, Sakura feels like a girlish imitation, all angles where Ino has curves. The outfits they’ve donned for the audition, flirtatious, showing skin where she’d rather be covered, make her feel even more of a fraud than usual.

And though it would be highly inappropriate - and she’d refuse - Sakura almost wishes it _was_ a hotel key, just to be able to say to Ino _look, someone preferred me more_. But the thought is uncharitable, and she brushes it aside as Ino’s face swings from righteous outrage to curiosity.

“A business card? From Hatake Kakashi?” she looks incredulous. “Those are like gold dust.”

“Yeah?” Sakura knows his opinion counts for a lot, but she didn’t know he was _that_ important.

“Absolutely,” Ino abandons her tirade against Obito and men in general, nodding and looking surprisingly serious for the sugar and vodka in her system. “I wish he’d been the only one to audition us. I’m sure he saw your good points and this,” she taps the card, “is proof.”

“I’m not so sure,” Sakura shakes her head. “He didn’t seem impressed with the singing… he just told me to contact him if I changed my mind.”

Ino frowns. It’s still pretty, and Sakura has to hold back a smile at the fact even when pulling a face, her best friend still outclasses anyone else in the room. “I wonder if he figured out that you…”

They both sigh, hands on their respective chins while Sakura sucks the last of her drink through the glittery straw. She feels dizzy enough to want another, sensible enough to know it’s not a good idea.

“We _could_ make it work, Ino,” Sakura says with a hint of humour. She knows the answer, even before Ino’s nose wrinkles in refusal. “I don’t have to sing.”

“I don’t think so, Forehead. All that energy and shouting just isn’t for me. And besides, you’re a lovely singer. Obito’s just a complete…”

Whatever Obito is exactly, Sakura doesn’t find out, as she tunes out the blonde’s words to listen to the faint music playing from the bar’s old speakers. From his position behind the counter, the bartender meets her eyes over Ino’s shoulder and gives her a lazy thumbs up.

Nara Shikamaru has worked behind the bar since they were old enough to patron the establishment, and he’s one of the only people that doesn’t bend to Ino’s whims. Naturally, Sakura likes him immensely. Even better, they share a similar taste in music; he’s put tracks on to help Sakura drown out the worst of her friend’s rants for years.

“Ino-chan,” Sakura interrupts suddenly. “Did Uchiha-san actually make you an offer, or did he just chat you up for fifteen minutes?”

“He made me an offer,” Ino admits. “But I’m not taking it. I don’t want a solo debut. We promised we’d get famous together. We’re kind of a package deal.”

It’s true, but it’s not exactly fair to the Yamanaka. The last thing Sakura wants is for her to hold back on anything else; Ino has sacrificed a lot for their bond, over the years.

“Don’t be silly,” Sakura chides. “Sleaze aside, you know this is an offer you shouldn’t refuse.”

Her arms folded mulishly, Ino stares her down, blue eyes boring into green.

“I’m not leaving you behind.” she says strongly. “That’s not what we do.”

Fingering the card on the table - which is in real danger of turning to mush thanks to the alcohol - Sakura takes a moment to consider her response.

 _What do I really want?_ She knows Ino will be successful if she debuts as a solo idol. Stardom is in the woman’s very bones, and she’s got the perseverance and the stubbornness to back up her talent. On the other hand, Sakura’s not so sure of herself. Neither of her own gift, nor in her integrity if Ino succeeds and she doesn’t.

But her loyalty to her friend wins out, and she digs at the card with her fingers until it flips up into her hand.

“I… I don’t think you would be,” she murmurs. “Leaving me behind, I mean.”

“But if we can’t debut as a duet…”

Mind made up, Sakura grins. “How do you feel about being famous, if not together, but at the same time?”

Ino seems taken with the idea, if the dawning excitement on her face means anything. “Are you talking good old divide and conquer?”

Sakura nods. “If Hatake-san is interested in what I have to say.”

 _And if all goes well,_ she doesn’t add, but Ino knows.

Her friend _tsks_ at her across the table, reaching out to flick the forehead that haunted her childhood. “I’m no expert, Forehead, but I’ve heard you play. If he’s not interested, he’s a hack.”

Emboldened by Ino’s declaration of confidence, Sakura picks the card up and weaves her way to the bar. She’s far too drunk to phone right now, but if she doesn’t do it today then Sakura knows she won’t do it at all.

“Shika,” she calls, and Shikamaru throws his towel over his shoulder, abandoning the glasses he was wiping on the pristine counter. She feels a moment of guilt at the mess they’ve made of their table, all sugared stripes and paper mush. “Can you get me a big glass of water, and a chaser of ginger ale?”

One for hydration and one for the bitter shock. Combined, she hopes they’ll sober her slightly.

“Ino made you overdo it?” he asks, moving with methodical slowness to pour her requests.

“No,” Sakura shakes her head, laughing, “that was all me.”

Her friend rolls his eyes, passing her the cool glasses and refusing her coins. “Keep it, it costs next to nothing.”

“You’re running a business…” Sakura hates the little gestures her friends make that acknowledge her poverty. But it’s rude to refuse gifts, and when he pointedly slides the coins back across the counter she pockets them and gulps down the water in three large gasps.

“Whoa,” Shikamaru says, before flicking his towel at a patron who whistles appreciatively.

Wiping the back of her mouth with her hand, Sakura grins at him, with all the fierceness she can muster. If she fakes it, maybe she’ll feel it.

“I’m about to do something stupid,” she comments lightly. “Can I borrow the back room?”

The brown-haired young man looks curious, but he’s too lazy to comment, and he simply waves her into the small room behind the bar. When she shuts the heavy door behind her it’s all too clear that no amount of faking, nor drunkenness, can steady the sudden spike in nerves.

She hadn’t expected to feel anxious about the prospect of debuting; Sakura knows she’s less invested in it than Ino is, but the other woman looked as cool and confident as ever. If only.

A few steadying breaths later, Sakura pulls out her phone - an Ino hand-me-down - and squints to read the fading black type of Hatake Kakashi’s phone number. She doesn’t want to risk texting or emailing him with her query; a busy exec like that is sure to lose something if it’s not put in front of his face.

Typing in the digits and feeling impressed at her lack of jitters, Sakura holds the ringing phone up to her ear, breathing heavily as though Shikamaru’s office is in the middle of a heatwave.

He picks up after two rings.

“Hello, this is Hatake Kakashi speaking,” he says coolly.

 _Hang up._ The impulse strikes her so suddenly Sakura is halfway to the button, but Kakashi’s voice interrupts her movement.

“Hello?” he repeats. “Mah, prank call…”

There’s a rustle before the line goes dead.

“Oh, shit,” Sakura says emphatically. Pranking an important record executive and wasting his time certainly isn’t going to do her any favours. But she hadn’t hidden her number, and now it’s in his phone. There are no second chances if she doesn’t call back immediately.

This time he picks up after a few more rings.

“Yes?” his voice sounds professional, but also just a bit pissed off.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stutters. “I didn’t mean to not speak.”

There’s a pause, and then-

“Who is this?” he sounds curious now, and _of course_ Sakura forgot she’d need to introduce herself.

“It’s, um, Haruno Sakura. From earlier?” she chuckles and she’s not sure whether it sounds nervy or drunk. “With the pink hair. I was with Ino. Yamanaka Ino.”

“Ah, Sakura-chan!” Kakashi’s voice is recognisably warmer. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh…” she’s surprised at his reception, but the fact he hasn’t made an excuse and hung up on her gives her enough confidence to blurt out, “I was wondering if you need, if you work with…”

Her bravery sputters out. Kakashi waits on the other end of the line, and Sakura feels a roaring in her ears that she hopes doesn’t herald something ridiculous, like a faint. The dusty backroom of the bar feels constricting all of a sudden, and she leans back on the door, opening it and listening to the comforting noise of one of her favourite places to hang out.

“I work with many kinds of talent,” the voice on the phone prompts, kindly. “What can I do for you?”

His repetition and the buzz of her favourite song bolsters her resolve. Taking a deep breath, Sakura grips the phone tighter in her hand, looking over her shoulder to where Ino is talking to Shikamaru, who has appeared to clean up their mess. Her friend meets her eyes and sticks out her tongue, and Sakura crosses her eyes in retaliation.

It’s with the peal of Ino’s laughter ringing in her ears that Sakura closes her eyes and asks,

“Do you have any use for a drummer?”

* * *

 

Kakashi regards him with such smugness when he opens the studio door that Sasuke nearly shuts it in the older man’s face. He doesn’t, though, because the executive is both one of the few people he truly respects and is also the kind of person to take the action and turn it into a day long tease.

“Yo!” Kakashi says in his usual lazy way. He’s not suited up, which is rare for him these days; ever since he and Obito settled full time behind the scenes, they’ve embraced the corporate image with an alacrity that shocked their fans (Sasuke included, though he’ll never admit it).

“Hey,” Sasuke greets, moving to his stool and picking up his instrument. Kakashi is late as always, and he’s keen to get started. Beside him, Naruto practically vibrates with poorly restrained excitement, as though he’s as thrilled to be here as he was the very first time they stepped foot in a recording booth.

Knowing his friend, it’s probably not far from the truth.

“What’s the plan?” Naruto asks, chugging from another of his energy drinks. Sasuke’s privately shocked they haven’t ruined his voice, but Naruto swears by the lurid orange liquid.

“You’ll be pleased to know,” Kakashi starts, his arms jammed in his pockets, “that you won’t be subjected to my drumming any longer.”

 _That_ perks up both young men’s interest, and Sasuke frowns as he notices Kakashi hadn’t taken his customary position behind the kit. Like himself Kakashi is a guitarist at heart, but the man is remarkably skilled at almost any instrument he tries out, and for the last year he’s been filling in while they cycle through a selection of drummers. So far nobody has stuck; either they weren’t up to the high standards demanded from all three men, or they couldn’t handle sometimes explosive friendship that characterised Sasuke and Naruto’s relationship.

Sasuke doesn’t think this new drummer will be any different but he’s intrigued all the same, his musical senses piqued at the thought of testing out a new sound.

“Hn,” he comments, “bring him in, then.”

For some reason, Kakashi’s smile widens until he’s showing teeth. “I thought we could play something first, to give a flavour of the style we’re going for.”

They haven’t done that for any of the other prospective drummers that have attempted to join their twosome, and Naruto exchanges a frown with him, before shrugging and moving to pick up the mic.

“Sure thing,” he agrees easily, pointing a finger towards the glass between them and the sound booth. “I’ll give ya a show, dude!”

Standing up - there’s no way he’s going to be left on the sidelines - Sasuke hefts his practice guitar and strums a few experimental chords while Naruto warms up. Kneeling to adjust the pedal, he sends a surreptitious glance towards the glass, but the privacy mode has been engaged and he can’t see anything beyond the smoky black clouding the surface.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the former guitarist giving his best fake smile while retuning the spare bass guitar they have on set.

“Not drumming today, then?” Sasuke asks, to throw Kakashi off his stride.

“Nope,” the older man counters, unperturbed. “I want to give our guest an idea of what we need filled in.”

Sasuke nods, but privately he’s excited for the chance to play alongside Kakashi on the strings. Though bass isn’t his main instrument he was far, far better at it than he had any right to be, and even Naruto seems infected by the energy.

“Should I get my guitar, too?” he asks eagerly.

“God, no,” Sasuke says with disgust. “If I never hear you play guitar again it’ll be too soon.”

That had been a short-lived project: Kakashi had wanted to see how they’d mesh as a singer / guitarist duo. Unfortunately, while Naruto sang like an angel, his guitar skills didn’t extend beyond holding it and attempting to look cool.

Turning around so the mysterious drummer wouldn’t see, Naruto shows Sasuke exactly what he thought of his comment with a rude hand gesture, and Sasuke has to hold back a smirk when Kakashi rubs a hand over his face in consternation.

“Let’s do _This Isn’t Real,”_ he suggests wearily, picking the song Sasuke is most proud of penning. It makes sense, because aside from the drums the song is almost fully realised.

Without waiting for a cue, Naruto launches into the lyrics, and it’s a testament to both Sasuke and Kakashi’s musicianship that they catch up without a hitch.

It’s not easy to play without the steadying thud of a drumbeat, but Sasuke loses himself in the music, fingers dancing across chords and notes that he sees in his dreams. And he knows he’s got a reputation for arrogance: people whisper about nepotism and pulling on purse strings when he snubs them in the studio. He also knows he has the musical ability to back up that arrogance, and he sends a challenging glare to the person behind the glass, hoping they’re watching him play.

They’ll need to be the best to keep up.

The song finishes after what feels like forever and yet also feels like an instant; Naruto trails off with the husky growl that’s part of his signature sound and even Kakashi blinks as though coming awake.

Sasuke listens to what sounds like muffled clapping through the soundproofing, and Kakashi gestures towards the production booth, inviting the drummer into the studio proper.

“Come on in,” he calls, and there’s a definite edge of mischief in his voice that raises Sasuke’s suspicions immensely. “Why don’t you tell us what you think?”

The Uchiha is still frowning as the door opens. And he’s glad of it, because the alternative is looking like Naruto - eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock - as in walks the kind of picture-perfect girl his cousin Obito likes to get in trouble with the media.

She looks like a record producer’s dream: pastel pink hair and eyes so green he’s sure she’s wearing contacts, short enough he’s a full head taller than her and covered in baggy, cutesy clothes straight from the second-hand store. The kind of girl Uchiha Studios pushes as an idol for all ages, inoffensive, sweet, more sugar than substance.

“Are you kidding?” Sasuke asks at the same time Naruto croaks out “But she’s a girl!”

The girl folds her arms indignantly, but unlike the other idol-wannabes he’s encountered she doesn’t try to shrilly defend herself.

“Sakura-chan’s a great drummer,” Kakashi says simply, and he gives out compliments so rarely Sasuke knows it must be true.

Still, this Sakura doesn’t look strong enough to pick up a drumstick, and he’ll believe it when he hears it.

“Hn, go sit, then,” he says coldly, jerking his head towards the kit.

She looks at it apprehensively, viridian eyes flicking between him and Naruto, and then moves towards him, arm outstretched to offer her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she starts, “I’m Haruno Saku-”

“I don’t really care,” Sasuke interrupts, and behind him he sees both Naruto and Kakashi glower at him for his rudeness. But he doesn’t like being taken by surprise, and so he sticks to his guns. “Show us what you can do.”

She withdraws her hand, retreating until it’s hidden within the folds of her baggy cardigan. He tries to ignore the sliver of regret that worms its way into his head when Kakashi shakes as head as though he’s disappointed.

Without another word, Sakura seats herself behind the drum kit, accepting the sticks Kakashi proffers her with a reassuring smile.

“I’m Naruto,” his best friend offers suddenly, having gotten over his initial stun. “Sorry about Sasuke, he’s an ass.”

Sakura throws him a smile that transforms her face from pretty to beautiful, and Sasuke doubts Naruto will be able to sing anything more than a squawk.

“Shall we play the same song?” Kakashi’s voice is deceptively light.

“Fine by me,” Sasuke says, shrugging.

“Is there sheet music?” Sakura asks tentatively.

None of the other drummers they’ve worked with have requested it, working instead from ear, and Sasuke doesn’t refrain from the urge to roll his eyes as she takes the papers in her hands and quickly sifts through them.

“Okay,” she murmurs quietly, “I’m ready when you are.”

“ _You’re_ the drummer,” he fires at her. It’s basic band practice: the drum beat leads the music.

“And it’s _your_ project,” she retorts, with an edge to her voice that he hadn’t expected.

“From four, then…” Sasuke relents, and he’s bored with this farce already, thinking ahead to the earliest slot he can book out to begin composing his next piece. His countdown is apathetic, at best.

Then Sakura whatever-her-name puts sticks to skin, and Sasuke feels that if this is a joke, then it’s definitely at his expense.

Because she’s good. She’s very, very good.

 _Well_ , Sasuke thinks, this time the shock painting his face openly. _We might just have found our missing piece._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. I’d love to know what you think! Somehow the idea of Sakura as a kick-ass drummer really appeals to me.


	2. Very Fast Very Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for such a lovely reception with chapter one! I’m so pleased other people are enjoying this absolutely cracky AU. It’s such a departure from what I usually write and it’s so much fun. 
> 
> Those nine-to-fivers, they look pretty stable / But I get my wages from my record label - Return of the Jedi by Reuben

Sakura takes to Naruto like they’ve known each other for years. And after practice (a gruelling experience where she’d had to play improvisations and repetitions from memory) the blonde singer asks if she’d like to grab a drink with him before heading home for the day. 

“It’ll be ace,” he assures her, giving her a hearty thumbs up. “I know a place near here - real discreet.”

Sakura tightens her hands around the drumsticks, resisting the urge to spin the twin shafts around her fingers. It’s a nervous habit, suppressed while she considers his request as the rest of them pack up the studio. She doesn’t have many male friends; the boundaries of going for a quick beer and  _ getting a drink  _ aren’t obvious to her, and Sakura doesn’t know which kind Naruto is suggesting.

Plus, his offer is couched in the kind of language Ino would take umbrage with.

“Discreet?” she queries. Sakura might be naive, but she’s not shy.

“Yeah,” Naruto says offhandedly, nodding. “For when we get famous, yanno?”

Ah. That sounds friendly, or at the very least innocent. She thinks.

“Sure,” she agrees, at the exact same time as Naruto gestures to Sasuke and says, “the bastard will come along too.”

Sakura notices that though they’ve seen eye to eye on nothing else this afternoon, both she and Sasuke make the same face at the suggestion. Clearly he’s as reluctant as she is to spend extra time together, but Naruto doesn’t take his growled  _ no  _ for an answer. Kakashi makes his excuses far more elegantly, and less than half an hour later the three are firmly ensconced in a booth at an unassuming little Izakaya pub on the corner. Sakura is surprised at how close it really is: just a stone's throw away from the intimidating exterior of Uchiha Studios’ main building.

“See?” Naruto says proudly, extending his arms out with a flourish at the peeling decor and dim radio buzz. Sakura can just about make out the ancient sign reading ‘Ichiraku’ above the counter, below which stands a taciturn middle-aged man with bushy brown eyebrows, the kind of ordinary guy she’d expect to find hanging out with her father after work. There’s a comforting feel to the place, nestled as it is between modern office blocks and glittering, glass-fronted studios.

She loves it.

“They do great food here,” Naruto announces, before cupping his hands around his mouth and using his impressive vocal chords to summon over the pub’s singular waitress.

“Three extra large tonkotsu ramen, and some beer to go with it, Ayame-chan!” he orders when the pretty brunette approaches. She smiles at him indulgently, giving Sasuke a familiar nod and Sakura a more polite one, extricating herself from Naruto’s enthusiastic hug and reciting the request to what can only be her father behind the bar.

_ So both of them are regulars,  _ Sakura observes, before she’s processed what Naruto just said.

“Oh,” she says, hand to her mouth. “Did I hear you order food for us?”

“Yeah,” the blonde confirms, before screwing his face up. “You’re not one of those talents that doesn’t eat, right? You’re really small, Sakura-chan. A bowl of Ichiraku’s finest will do you good.”

“Uh…”

In fact, tonkotsu ramen sounds pretty appealing right now and she’s sure it’ll be delicious from a family-run place like Ichiraku, but the truth is Sakura doesn’t have a whole lot of ryou in her purse. To compound matters, there’s no obvious price list, and she’s not about to admit she can’t afford the meal. Not when Naruto and Sasuke are dressed the same way as Ino; everything brand label, a subtle expression that they have  _ money  _ and that she doesn’t.

“I promise it’s the best ramen you’ll ever eat,” Naruto says emphatically. “My treat.”

Sakura hopes her relief isn’t too noticeable, and shoots a glance at the scowling man sitting next to the happily chattering blonde. Sasuke hasn’t said one word besides for a quiet greeting to the proprietor when they entered, and his continued silence is unsettling. In a way Sakura is glad for his rudeness: without it, Sasuke would be irresistibly charming, a study in elegance with dark hair, black eyes and fine-boned features. The kind of almost-too-pretty guy Sakura finds herself admiring on the train. Perhaps worst of all, his musicianship and dedication to his craft only make him more appealing.

For the dark-haired guitarist to be almost inexcusably prickly guarantees she’ll be able to steer clear of mooning over him. She hopes.

“Alright, then... thanks, Naruto-san,” Sakura demurs. “I’m sure it’ll be tasty.”

Naruto holds his hands up with a horrified expression. “Just Naruto!” he exclaims. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the world uses  _ ‘san’ _ with me.”

Sakura laughs with him, complying when he makes her repeat his name a few times without the honorific. So far she’s avoided addressing Sasuke at all after the first disastrous attempt in the studio, but she suspects he won’t offer the same extension of friendship.  _ Whatever,  _ she thinks, watching as he wrinkles his aristocratic nose in disdain as Naruto chatters on,  _ he’s an ass anyway. _

Content to let the blonde young man talk while she sits with her chin in hand, Sakura watches as the waitress - Ayame - pours three generous mugs of beer, carrying them over expertly before setting them on the chipped table.

“Should we do a toast?” Sakura suggests when neither of her companions moves to take their drink, longingly eyeing the beer as it bubbles gently in the glass. It’s the local brew; she smiles at the heady foam on top and remembers days filching a can here or there from her father’s supply. “To… us?”

Naruto mouths it to himself, while Sasuke simply shrugs and holds up his drink. Not quite the ringing endorsement Sakura had wanted but it’s a cheer all the same, and she smiles at them both before downing the drink in one go. And though her vision is distorted through the thick walls of the emptying glass, Sakura sees the way they both stare at her in amazement, watching blankly as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand in satisfaction.

“I love Konoha Dry,” she says sweetly, holding back a laugh. It’s a small payback - she’s not dense, and the young woman knows they both made judgements about her at first sight. They weren’t the first and won’t be the last: sometimes Sakura curses her pink hair and her pale face, angers at the way men see her as a doll to be placed on a pedestal and admired, ignored.

“Nice,” Naruto says appreciatively, and Sakura grins as Sasuke just frowns at her. He looks like he’s going to say something disparaging, but at that moment three steaming bowls of what looks like the best ramen Sakura’s ever seen arrive at the table. She’s instantly smitten: the proprietor obviously knows his stuff, and if she’s sure that her father wouldn’t turn his nose up at coming downtown so often she’d bring him here to taste it himself.

“This is  _ delicious _ ,” she mumbles around a mouthful of egg.

“Right?” Naruto agrees, holding his hands together as though praying to the taste, balancing the chopsticks on his thumbs.

Sakura copies him, grinning as she allows herself the hint of a drummer’s flourish, twirling the chopsticks back to their normal position before digging back in to the meal. From the corner of her eye, she watches Sasuke’s dark eyes follow the movement but he looks away when she meets his gaze, instead diverting his attention to the bowl with far more refinement than the other two.

There’s silence for all of five minutes before Naruto finishes his food, complaining when she refuses another beer -  _ come on, Sakura-chan, you barely tasted the first  _ \- and she settles down into what’s likely to be an evening rather than a single drink.

And she starts to think that maybe, just maybe everything will go smoothly, when Naruto leans forward on the table and says,

“Why don’t we try some proper introductions, huh?” he slides his bright blue eyes to his friend, grinning wolfishly when Sasuke sighs. “Now that the bastard’s been fed.”

“As though  _ you’re  _ not the one who lives by his stomach,” Sasuke retorts, and Sakura has to try very hard to keep the expression on her face neutral. Kakashi had warned her of the pair’s tempestuous friendship, had even gone so far as to tell her he’d understand if she couldn’t take their almost-hostile dynamic. But she doesn’t mind; it’s very similar to the way the carpenters in her father’s yard talk to one another, a jostling, hot-tempered kind of companionship that she figures must be far removed from the slick and civil face of the music industry.

In fact Naruto and Sasuke - though she’s known them barely six hours - have a camaraderie that’s positively  _ refreshing  _ in its brutal honesty.

Once they’ve spent a few minutes heckling one another, Sakura interrupts with a gentle prompt.

“Why don’t you start, Naruto?”

He closes his mouth around what she guesses was another insult and nods enthusiastically, giving her a thumbs up across the table.

“Yo! I’m Uzumaki Naruto, and I’m a singer, and according to Sasuke I play guitar really badly - but I think I’m alright - and my goal is to reach the top of Konoha’s charts.”

He smiles brightly and Sakura can’t help returning it. “I want the three of us to get there together!”

With a decisive huff, the blonde places both hands flat on the table and looks so satisfied that Sakura’s lips clench together to stop the laugh that threatens. It’s an admirable goal; she almost believes in him,  _ with _ him even after a few hours and the roughest estimation of a practice.

With a deep breath, Sakura tells her own tale, her green eyes staring at the faded tile on Ichiraku’s ceiling.

“I’m Haruno Sakura,” she begins, and it’s very hard to avoid either of the boy’s gazes because they’re both watching with varying levels of curiosity, “and I’m a drummer, although Kakashi-san will tell you I’m a bad singer, too.” 

At that, Naruto looks visibly intrigued: she swears the blonde hair on his head sits up straight like a dog at attention.

“And?” Naruto prompts. “What’s your goal?”

_ Why are you doing this?  _ Is the unspoken question in both of their eyes.

“I want… I have something of a rival.” Sakura doesn’t miss the way Sasuke’s dark gaze sharpens; the way he focuses on her words with a muted sort of interest. “I want to see how far I… we… can go together.”

“I can get behind that,” Naruto affirms with an obvious glare at Sasuke. “So who is it? Someone we know? Are they already famous?”

Sakura shrugs. She’s guessed that they run in wealthier circles than her, but Konoha is a big place: they might not be aware of Ino despite the girl’s best efforts.

“She’s called Yamanaka Ino, and she’s infamous, if not  _ actually  _ famous yet…”

Naruto screws his face up before recognition dawns on him and he takes a hearty swig of their second round.

“Mmmm… doesn’t her family do your mother’s flowers, Sasuke? And I think my dad gets them too. I’ve definitely seen their labels before when he sends them to kaa-chan.”

“Is she a drummer too?” Sasuke asks, completely ignoring Naruto’s question and pinning Sakura with his bottomless gaze. Sakura tries not to blush under his intense scrutiny; there’s something compelling about his interest, the way his direct attention makes her feel like it’s a rare gift. Sakura does  _ not  _ like the way it makes her feel ever so slightly giddy.

“Oh, no,” she replies, shaking her head emphatically. “She sings - really well. I actually auditioned as a duet with her at first…”

Launching into a shortened rendition of her disastrous audition and Kakashi’s recommendation, Sakura fidgets with the edges of her cardigan when both musicians assess her as she speaks. Though she’s sure she’d passed muster during practice the young woman can’t help but feel like she’s under interview; and this time, Sakura realises she wants to pass.

Irascible though they may be, playing alongside Sasuke and Naruto and Kakashi is something she wants to do again and again.

“So… how about you?” Sakura eventually deflects, holding an inviting hand out towards Sasuke when he glowers impressively at her. Naruto has to knock his shoulder into the dark haired young man before he opens his mouth reluctantly.

“I’m… Uchiha Sasuke. I play guitar,” he says tonelessly. “My goal is to overtake my brother.”

Sakura nods encouragingly before his words permeate her beer-softened mind.  _ Did he just say… _

“Uchiha?” she repeats blankly. “As in… name-on-the-door Uchiha? Uchiha Studios Uchiha?”

Sasuke stares as though she’s stupid.

“And… your brother is Uchiha Itachi?” One of the most famous musicians to ever come out of Konoha, Itachi was the musical prodigy who frontlined Akatsuki, an ensemble band of talented artists who had dominated the charts - and Sakura’s record player - since their debut ten years ago.

She doesn’t say any of this out loud, but she’s somehow sure that Sasuke can read it in her wide-eyed stare if his long-suffering sigh is any indication. He nods shortly, curling his hand around his glass in a posture that screams annoyance. It must be irritating, Sakura realises, to be constantly measured up against the weight of his family name and the expectations led by the skills of his brother. 

“Ah,” she says softly, holding up a finger with a smile she hopes looks placating, “you forgot something.”

One dark eyebrow raises itself while Sasuke waits to hear what she has to say.

“You write all the songs, don’t you?” she questions, already knowing the answer. “I think they really pack a punch.”

And it’s the first time Uchiha Sasuke has smiled all day, but as his lips curve up before he downs his beer in one go, Sakura hears part of her think  _ you should do that more often  _ precisely as the sensible side of her says  _ oh… oh no. _

* * *

After that, it happens quickly. Naruto invites Sakura to practices, to talks about practices, to their twice-weekly lunches and before Sasuke knows it she’s wormed her way into their duo as though she’s been there for years.

Kakashi continues to book out the studio for them, using his not-inconsiderable influence in the company to get the best slots in the best spaces, but it’s almost a month before there’s any real discussion of a contract.

“I don’t rush a good thing,” he says with a shrug, smiling when Sasuke frowns before turning back to re-stringing his guitar. “Besides, I wanted to see how Sakura-chan would get on.”

At that, he looks inquiringly towards Sasuke, but the younger man just rolls his eyes and continues his work. He’s managed to grab the exec alone for an hour to go over some particularly tricky chord progression and he’s not going to waste it with useless discussion.

“She can stay,” he says reluctantly, noticing that Kakashi isn’t picking up his own guitar. When the other man still doesn’t move, hand fisted under his chin and his face smoothed out in his best definitely-not-teasing expression, Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing.

“She’s good. Probably the best drummer I’ve worked with.”

“But do you get along with her?”

Sasuke thinks. He doesn’t get along with many people outside of his family; in fact, he could probably count them on one hand if he was being generous. Where does Sakura fit in? He’s not stubborn enough to willfully ignore the way she’s slotted in his and Naruto’s dynamic with seamless ease, or the way she lets them bicker to a point before stepping in and diffusing the tension. Yet she’s no pushover either: he remembers at least two occasions where she’d snapped back at him, giving as good as she got when things got too frosty in the studio.

And she’s also a damn good musician, a fact that Sasuke will forgive many faults for.

“I don’t really know her,”  _ yet,  _ he doesn't add, but it’s implied. “But I guess we get along.”

Kakashi nods, looking supremely satisfied and Sasuke blinks when the silver-haired man swings his guitar onto his knees in response.

“That’s exactly what Sakura-chan said,” he confides smugly, and Sasuke scowls before bending over the strings, forgetting everything but the swell of the music and the dance of his fingertips for the remainder of their hour together. 

The very next day, Kakashi bustles into the meeting room with three stacks of paper, neatly stapled with his family’s  _ uchiwa  _ logo prominently displayed on the cover.

“Sorry I’m late,” he greets cheerfully while ignoring the way the three younger musicians glare at him. “Contracts take so long to staple together.” 

“Don’t you have a secretary?” Naruto questions innocently, looking confused. Kakashi jumps at the word, and looks over his shoulder before settling down to beam at the three of them.

Sasuke watches as Kakashi passes them each a document and scrubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. He’s known the man for most of his life and where his false lackadaisical nature routinely fools Naruto and Sakura, it’s not so easy for the exec to pull the wool over Sasuke’s own eyes.

“I just wanted to exercise my wrist, now that I don’t get much chance with Sakura-chan drumming so beautifully!”

Sakura starts at the mention of her name, and Sasuke feels the confusion rolling off of her in waves. She looks like she doesn’t believe him, but unlike the other two she’s far too polite to inquire further.

“Hn,” the Uchiha allows, before reaching out and flicking through the document on the table. Sasuke has seen plenty of talent contracts in his time: growing up hanging around the offices, he’d snuck a look at the documents as part of his self-appointed training for the day he became famous. It’s a fairly cut-and-paste job, he notices, marking out rules around ownership of the music they produce, what Uchiha Studios will do to support and market their efforts, and the conditions of continued employment. They’re required to attend variety shows and perform in shopping centres once they reach a certain level of popularity, although he notices that there’s a lot more emphasis placed on their attendance at live shows and music nights in Konoha’s more alternative establishments.

Finished, the guitarist closes the document and leans forward with his chin resting on his interlaced fingers. Looking to his left, he sees that Naruto’s already signed and is currently twirling the pen boredly around the desk, but it’s Sakura’s frown that piques his interest.

“What?” he asks bluntly, startling her from her close perusal of the paper.

“Ah… it’s nothing, Sasuke,” she lies with a smile. Sasuke’s far too observant to be fooled. 

“You might as well say,” he scolds. “We’re  _ supposed  _ to discuss it before signing.”

Naruto glowers at him above Sakura’s pink hair, catching on to his not-so-subtle dig.

“Well…” Sakura fingers the edge of the paper with her hands, looking anxious. She doesn’t speak until Kakashi gives her an encouraging nod and Sasuke finds himself irritated at the gesture. It’s not quite jealousy - with regard to either of them - but there’s something about the way Sakura often holds back until Kakashi coaxes her to speak that gets on his nerves. He supposes it’s something to do with the way Kakashi was the first person to introduce her to the professional music scene, and the older guitarist is certainly more patient and kinder to her than he is with Naruto or Sasuke, but still - she’s supposed to be  _ their  _ bandmate. When he meets Naruto’s blue gaze over her bent head, Sasuke is shocked to see an echo of the same dissatisfaction in his best friend’s slight frown.

All three of them miss the way Kakashi’s smile turns genuine as he watches the silent exchange.

“Mah, what’s wrong, Sakura-chan?” he prompts.

“It’s just… do you have any information about,” and Sasuke notices, with his straighter posture and greater height the flush that rises on the back of her neck, “our salary?”

Ah. Sasuke glances back down at his contract, feeling the unfamiliar prickle of embarrassment creep across his shoulders. He hadn’t even considered that, knew Naruto wouldn’t have either, and it’s testament to their privileged upbringings in a way that makes Sasuke feel surprisingly chagrined.

“Of course,” Kakashi says gracefully. “That’s a separate discussion you’ll have with our HR team.”

He shrugs. “I don’t get told what you get paid, but I told them to make it good.”

Sakura nods tensely, and they all sign to the tune of Kakashi giving them a short round of applause.

“Now you’re official talent with Uchiha Studios,” the exec says, and Sasuke detects the tinge of pride colouring his voice. “Welcome to the fold, so to speak.”

The rest of the meeting bores Sasuke to tears - he’s sat through terms and conditions before - but he manages to grab Kakashi before he makes his escape. The guitarist is reluctant to admit it, but he likes to keep tabs on the executive’s mood, and today Kakashi is definitely on the morose end of his usual spectrum.

“You’ve fallen out with Shizune again?” he asks, referring to Kakashi’s long-suffering secretary.

“You’re too observant for your own good, Sasuke,” Kakashi sighs, dropping back down into the chair he’d just vacated. Sasuke waits until Sakura and Naruto are out of earshot before continuing.

“What happened?” 

“I put her in a bit of a difficult position,” Kakashi starts, “with your father.”

_ That  _ gets Sasuke’s attention. Uchiha Fugaku, legendary media mogul and studio director, is not the kind of man people cross. Kakashi has the rare privilege of being so good at his job - both on stage and behind the scenes - that he gets to take liberties other talents and executives shy away from, but Sasuke knows he rarely exerts them.

“Father’s upset with you?”

Kakashi grimaces. “Mah, upset is a strong word, but Shizune’s certainly not talking to me. I made her tell him something he didn’t want to hear, and you know your father doesn’t hold back on the messenger.”

Both men contemplate Fugaku’s demeanor. He’s so stern and standoffish that Sasuke knows his father makes  _ him  _ look as friendly as Naruto, and he doesn’t envy Shizune having to be the bearer of bad news.

“What did she tell him?”

“I pushed back when your father tried to force me into giving you a…  _ different  _ contract than Sakura and Naruto. I told him you’ll all be equals in this or you’ll all be nothing.”

Kakashi meets his eyes, grey eyes boring into black that had suddenly sharpened. Sasuke feels furious. He knows what Kakashi is implying; his father had wanted to give him an advantage, a leg up purely due to his position as family. It certainly wasn’t because of his skill, because the older man hadn’t bothered to listen to him play for years. Grinding his teeth together to keep his temper in check, Sasuke can’t stop his fists clenching in anger.

“You told me years ago you want to do this properly,” Kakashi continues, looking as serious as Sasuke’s ever seen him. “And that means no shortcuts.”

“I get it,” Sasuke replies firmly. And he does: there’ll be no slacking on the path to overtaking his brother. It’s proof that his father doesn’t feel he can do it, and Kakashi’s refusal is proof that  _ he  _ feels Sasuke has a chance.

“Good,” Kakashi finishes, before sweeping out of the room with a grim expression. Sasuke forgets to protest when the older man ruffles his dark hair on the way out, distracted with the need to better himself, hone his craft.

And that night, Sasuke sits in his room and plays until his fingers are raw and his strings turn the colour of blood.

* * *

Sakura’s pride stops her from calling the practice to a halt even as she watches the clock tick ominously towards the last train. After signing on the week before, their sessions have stepped up with an intensity that she craves, musical fervor that leads them to locking themselves in the studio long after they should leave.

People quickly stop trying to interrupt them. Sasuke’s temper is cold at the best of times, but he’s almost frightening when he snarls at the unsuspecting musicians who dare to open the door, and even sunny Naruto isn’t above a disapproving screech when they’re disturbed.

So, no: she’ll find a way home, although her house is six stops along the line, a difficult walk in the late night, post-practice exhaustion. She’s still planning when her drumstick smacks off the metal rim of the snare, a discordant sound that jars them from their trancelike concentration.

Sasuke turns and glares at her, but before he can open his mouth to admonish Kakashi claps his hands authoritatively and calls an end to the session.

“We’ve been here for nearly five hours,” he scolds, “so I think it’s hometime, ne?”

_ Five hours?  _ Sakura blinks in shock, all at once aware of the fine trembling in her arms and the sheen of perspiration across her forehead. Her stamina is impressive but not endless, and just last month a session this long would’ve pushed her to her limits. That she’s merely  _ tired  _ causes a fierce grin to stretch across her delicate features.

“Oh, shit!” Naruto says. “I’m supposed to meet Hinata at eleven!”

He stops, twirling around to where Sakura’s still ensconced behind the kit. “When’s your last train, Sakura-chan?”

“Um…” she hedges, noticing that they’ve all stopped to listen. “Five minutes ago?”

Sasuke just looks at her blankly while Naruto puts his hands to his cheeks in shock. Kakashi places a hand on his hip and sighs.

“Why didn’t you say?” he scolds gently.

“I was…” she shrugs, the movement agitating her abused arms and making her regret the heavy jumpers she favours. Their practice is almost intense enough to make her dress lightly, but she’s still on edge about the skimpy outfit Ino made her wear to the audition. “I was enjoying myself.”

The answer satisfies them, Sakura notes, watching as Sasuke nods minutely to himself while Naruto laughs and even Kakashi seems appeased.

“Still,” he warns. “You shouldn’t let us keep you. I can drive you home, but I’ve got more work to do tonight…”

It’s a relatively long trip by car and Sakura doesn’t want to disrupt the exec any further; all three of them are aware he’s been pulling double duty to practice with them and continue his other responsibilities.

“It’s alright,” she refuses, holding the drumsticks under her arm as she waves her hands. “I’ll call my papa and ask…”

Ducking out of the room and pulling out her phone, she dials home, smiling to herself when her mother answers the phone with her soft brand of worry.

_ “Sakura-chan, are you almost home? Why are you calling? Has something happened to you?” _

Her mother is thrilled that she’s working with Uchiha Studios… less so about the late hours.

“No, mama, I’m afraid I’ve missed the train. Could papa come and pick me up?” she asks hopefully. At twenty-five Sakura is too old for her mother’s worrying, but she knows it’s out of love all the same. It’s a suffocating kind of sweetness that she’d have moved away from long ago, if not for the fact that her wages were far too essential to keeping her parents afloat.

_ “Darling… your father has already had a drink - what is that studio doing? Can’t your manager drive you home? What kind of people let a young woman out-” _

Sakura cuts her mother off. “OK, mama, I’ll get someone else to give me a lift, I’ll see you when I’m home!”

With an exaggerated kiss down the line she hangs up, staving off any further concerns.  _ Damn _ , she thinks with a wince.  _ Looks like a long walk.  _ Konoha taxis are extortionate, and their first paycheck has yet to materialise.

Opening the door back to the studio, the drummer is startled to find all three men waiting with folded arms to hear the verdict. They’ve packed everything away, even her stuff, and Sakura feels the pleasant warmth of  _ belonging  _ drift across her. Still, she’s not one to ask for help.

“Papa’s had a drink unfortunately,” she says with a shrug. “I’ll figure something out.”

They’re all startled when Sasuke heaves a loud sigh.

“I can drive you,” he offers with obvious reluctance. “I don’t have any plans tonight.”

Sakura’s about to refuse politely, but Naruto is already nodding enthusiastically. “Nice one bastard, looks like you’re not all bad moods after all!”

He turns to Sakura, giving a signature thumbs up. “Sasuke’s got an amazing car,” he crows. “Make sure you get him to take you a route that picks up speed!”

Sasuke rolls dark eyes but doesn’t dismiss the notion, and the part of Sakura that’s grown up around carpenters and their love for all things dangerous feels just a touch excited. It’s heightened when they walk in silence down to the carpark and she gets her first look at what the youngest Uchiha drives.

“This is your car?”

She can’t keep the incredulous note from her voice, and over the sleek black roof Sasuke gives her his trademark smirk. “Ah.”

Sakura takes a step back to admire the all black vehicle; it’s Suna made, an expensive import that screams  _ I’ll go as fast as you dare  _ and when she meets Sasuke’s eyes again he’s wearing a look that’s so insufferably smug she almost asks him who paid for it.

But she  _ really  _ wants the ride home, so she simply gives him a level nod and gingerly drops into the leather front seat. He follows her into the driver’s seat, jumping in something that seems an awful lot like surprise when he looks at her.

“What?” Sakura queries, a little defensively. Practice was long and she’s pretty sure she doesn't stink, but… “you don’t want me to sit in the back, do you?”

“No,” Sasuke affirms while starting the car and edging smoothly out of the spot. Sakura tries not to think about the way he looks while driving, because with his good looks, confidence and the luxe black backdrop it’s undeniably attractive. “I just don’t give girls a ride home often.”

“Lucky me,” Sakura drawls in response. It’s dark on the road, but she’s pretty sure Sasuke is fighting a smirk.

The remainder of the drive passes in what could almost be a companionable silence, punctuated only with Sakura’s clipped instructions and her bitten-off squeal when Sasuke puts his foot down on a quiet stretch of road.

_ He pretends he’s above Naruto’s goading,  _ she thinks, watching as he grips the steering wheel and drives with intense focus,  _ but they’re as bad as each other. _

Soon, Sakura begins to recognise the area they’re driving through, and a sliver of shame winds its way up her spine. She lives in one of the most run-down areas of the city, a neighbourhood that’s not rough, but not affluent either; Sasuke’s expensive car doesn’t fit in with the beaten-up cars parked in front of the modest houses. They reach the dark back road that leads to her house-come-workshop, and Sakura turns to the young man driving silently beside her.

“This will be fine,” she says evenly, watching as he slows to a stop, staring at the pitch-black surroundings. Her house is off the main road, hidden in a stretch of forest that her father has carefully cultivated for his work.

“Here?” he confirms, craning his head around. “There’s nothing here.”

Sakura smiles with what she hopes is a reassuring tilt of her head. “Yes, my house is just further up the hill. It’s just a minute away.”

“Then I’ll drive you another minute,” Sasuke says decisively, releasing the handbrake.

“Sasuke, you don’t have to, it’s easier to turn around on this-”

Sasuke interrupts her archly. “Sakura,” he says, and she listens because he very rarely addresses her by name. “It’s late, and I’m not giving you a lift just to drop you off on an abandoned stretch of road.”

He says it so confidently that she just nods dumbly, snapping out of it only when he almost drives past her father’s workshop.

“Here’s me,” she half-yells, and Sasuke puts his foot down so abruptly she’s almost thrown forward. They both look to the side of the road, Sakura taking in the fading paint that proclaims her family shop -  _ Haruno Woodworking  _ \- with a heavy heart. It’s very different from the glittering polish of Uchiha Studios, and though she’s not been to any of  _ their  _ houses, Sakura knows it must be worlds apart from her own. She feels almost embarrassed at the near dilapidation, and then angry at herself for such traitorous thoughts. Her father built the house and the wood warehouse with his own hands, and he works very hard even though he should be thinking of retirement.

Glancing back at Sasuke, she notices he’s observing her home with a cool expression, leaning forward on crossed arms over his steering wheel.

“Sorry my house is…” she trails off, annoyed with her own nerves. What does it matter? Ino’s as rich as the rest of them, and it doesn’t bother  _ her  _ when she comes round.

“I don’t care,” Sasuke mutters, raising a fine dark eyebrow at her. And though other people might find his cold words rude, Sakura hears his intentions; the way that in his own fashion, the Uchiha is trying to reassure her that he doesn’t particularly care about the state of her home.

So she simply smiles in response to his declaration and they sit for a moment unmoving, two people staring at one another in the dark of his car. With a nervous laugh, Sakura realises that he’s probably looking at her and wondering why the hell she hasn’t gotten out of his car yet, but before she can move Sasuke unclips his own seatbelt and slips out of the vehicle, making her frown in confusion before gasping audibly when the door beside her opens.

She stares up at Sasuke as he holds the door open for her; never in her life has anyone held a car door open for her to step out, and the drummer worries her face is painted with open confusion when he raises his other eyebrow and leans on the window.

“Thanks for the lift,” she mumbles, exiting the vehicle with uncharacteristic gracelessness. Sasuke closes the door behind her with a shrug.

“It’s fine,” he says offhandedly. “If you miss the train again because of practice…”

The offer is unexpected, and Sakura tries to keep the surprised expression from her face.

“Thanks,” she says softly. “Goodnight, Sasuke-kun.”

With the diminutive hanging in the air between them - she truly hadn’t meant to call him that, but she’s not about to take it back, because that would be  _ worse  _ \- Sakura turns and makes her way up the path to her house.

And he doesn’t return the pleasantry, but when Sakura looks over her shoulder she sees the way he’s leaned against his car, arms folded, watching her make her way up the winding paving stones towards the door. Sakura doesn’t know if he’s apathetic or smooth, but when Sasuke gives her a lazy wave as she unlocks the door and steps into the dim light of her hallway, the drummer is almost,  _ almost  _ appalled at the way her heart beats a frantic rhythm in her ears.

She leans against the door and listens as his engine purrs to life and leaves, ignoring her mother’s loud greeting in favour of cooling the rush of heat that’s drifted across her face.

It’s only when she sits down in the garage behind her ancient, patched-up kit and beats out the drumming in her head that her heart begins to calm.

_ Maybe,  _ Sakura thinks, resting her head across the vibrating cymbal as she slows to a stop,  _ I should’ve walked home after all.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there’s chapter two finished. I’m having such a good time with surly guitarist!Sasuke and just-as-proud drummer!Sakura. I’d love to know if you are, too!


	3. We Who Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really chuffed people are enjoying this absolute hedonistic self-indulgence as much as I am. I hope you’re all listening to rock music like it’s 2004 and thinking about all the new Naruto x Linkin Park AMVs appearing on the up and coming website YouTube.
> 
> “I wonder what we’ll play for you tonight / Something heavy or something light?” One Chord Wonders by The Adverts

When Sakura opens the door to the dance class the first thing she sees is Ino bent over with her hands on her knees, laughing like she’s never seen anything funnier. And she supposes it is humorous; the fact that Kakashi’s secret “next big thing” have finally been forced into participating in regular talent training right before debut season begins.

It hadn’t gone down well. A fortnight after signing, Kakashi had taken her, Naruto and Sasuke aside to explain Uchiha Studios’ programme of classes and lessons that all new talents were required to take.

“Like… school?” Naruto had said, sounding distinctly displeased. “Kakashi… I’m twenty five.”

Unfortunately for Sakura,  _ classes  _ meant dancing, because even though she’s staunchly behind the drumkit the producers still insist that training her body is a necessary part of her ongoing improvement. They also insist she and the boys get the exact same schedule, but Sakura doesn’t believe it: this is entertainment, after all, and it’s all about selling an image. She rebels in her own way, wearing the loosest, oldest tracksuit she has, a tattered old affair that should’ve been binned years ago.

“Oh, Forehead,” Ino crows, looking right at home with the other starlets in her stylish purple exercise gear and jaunty ponytail. “What did you do to end up in here?”

Sakura rolls her eyes, shifting from side to side to warm up. It’s immediately clear that Ino’s already ruling the roost: not even the teacher interrupts her best friend’s taunting.

“I assumed,” she replies drolly, “that the higher ups don’t want me kicking anyone in the face.”

A few of the other young women edge away visibly at her statement, though Sakura’s amused to see they still hover around the fringes of the conversation, because even when she’s ignoring them, Ino is just that magnetic.

“Fair,” the blonde replies with a shrug, before tugging on Sakura’s arms and pulling her front and centre.

“Pig…” Sakura warns, but Ino just flashes her most winning smile.

“We’ll go easy today,” she assures her, before throwing the teacher a look that’s more bared teeth than pleasant grin. “Right?”

“Of course,” the dance instructor agrees, bobbing her head like she’s one of Ino’s house staff.

The next forty-five minutes are pure torture. Sakura is athletic: she runs every day, visits a gym, lifts weights and wood and helps her father with the heavy stuff, but dancing just isn’t in her blood and all her drummer’s co-ordination drains away as soon as the music starts.

“I’m never doing that again,” she howls at the end of the session, pathetically grateful for the way her friend is fanning her branded Uchiha towel in her face.

“I never want to see it again,” Ino agrees. “Can’t you just keep going to your local gym, the one that boy from school works at? Or did the powers that be decide you shouldn’t do martial arts any more?”

Sakura sits up from her splayed position, shooting Ino a decidedly cheeky grin. “Well here’s the thing,” she whispers, “I never told them about it.”

The two women share a giggle before picking themselves up from the floor.

“Devious, Sakura-chan,” Ino compliments, linking her arm through Sakura’s as they wander back to get changed before heading home. “I take it that’s what the baggy jumpers are about: to hide all these wretched muscles.”

Wrinkling her nose in false affront, the pink-haired drummer taps her chin before replying.

“That’s more because I wouldn’t be caught dead in  _ this _ ,” she teases, taking a liberal handful of Ino’s shoulder strap and pinging the elastic fabric against her skin.

“Bitch!” Ino squeals, shoving her to the side. They’re just about to duck into the changing room when a smooth voice calls from down the corridor, sending an unpleasant shiver of recognition down Sakura’s spine.

“Ino-chan,” Uchiha Obito says, and because they’re pressed against one another Sakura feels the way her best friend’s body stiffens.

Her smile is a picture as they turn to greet the producer.  _ Ino would make a great actress,  _ Sakura thinks with a frown, before pulling herself into a polite bow.

“How was practice?” he asks, not even acknowledging Sakura’s presence.

“Fine,” Ino replies shortly. “I’m just about to go-”

“Ah, actually,” Obito cuts in, putting his hand on the blonde’s other arm. “There’s something urgent we need to discuss, so if you could come with me now…”

Ino’s pretty nose screws up in distaste. “But I’m just out of the class, I need to shower…”

“You can use the one in my office,” he replies with a smile, but it’s not at all kind, nor is it an offer. Hearing it for the command that it is, Ino extricates herself from Sakura’s solid grasp, giving Obito a short bow before ducking into the room to get her stuff.

Sakura doesn’t follow; she stands with her arms folded outside the changing room, watching as the Uchiha producer leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets, nodding to people who acknowledge him as they pass.

“How is Ino getting on?” she asks, half for something to say and half to force him to pay attention to her presence.

“Are you her mother?” Obito retorts, and it’s delivered just jovially enough that she cannot take it as the insult it was. “Ino’s going to do great things for the Uchiha.”

She doesn’t quite like the sound of that. And it’s not what she’s asking.

“When’s her debut?”

“A fan, huh? I hear she has a lot amongst the new talent.”

So he didn’t recognise her. That suits Sakura just fine, although it did hurt, to be so overshadowed by her friend’s brilliance that she’s completely forgettable. Hearing the door open behind her, Sakura shoots Obito a look filled with real venom before turning to Ino, who’d emerged from the changing room with her bag in hand.

“Here,” Sakura says, pulling her tracksuit top over her own head and pulling Ino’s arms though it. 

“Thanks, Prince Charming,” Ino whispers with a smile, leaning forward to kiss her cheek before turning to Obito with a far falser expression. He doesn’t look back at Sakura as they walk down the busy corridor, but she hears the  _ tut  _ under his breath, and watches as Ino adjusts the tracksuit so it hangs past her mid thighs.

When Ino holds up her hand in a wave that’s more of a salute, Sakura finds herself grinning fiercely, amused that they’d so smoothly thwarted the producer’s no doubt inappropriate ideas.

_ Bastard,  _ she thinks savagely. Abandoning all thoughts of heading home, Sakura grabs her stuff and stalks at full speed to the practice room. Heedless of her half-dressed and frankly demonic appearance, she needs to spend some time alone, feel the thrill of music instead of the thrill of confrontation. But more importantly…

She needs to hit something. Hard.

* * *

“Whoa, what the  _ fuck _ ?”

Naruto’s voice is at once incredulous and yet an almost-whisper, and it’s so out of character for him that Sasuke hesitates before following him into the sound booth.

“What?” he hisses, poking his head through the door. The lights are off, and nothing looks particularly out of the ordinary; but Naruto stands in the centre of the room with his hands on his head, staring at something through the privacy glass that separates the mixers and producers from their recording space.

“Sakura-chan is like, playing the drums in the dark!”

_ That  _ stops him. Naruto turns to his best friend and crouches down, hands sliding from his hair to his cheeks, doing a fairly decent impression of a man in despair. “Is it an artistic breakdown Sasuke? What should we do? We’re debuting soon!”

“Shut up, idiot,” Sasuke replies, voice pitched quietly. It wasn’t likely she’d see or hear them with the darkness and the sound proofing, but for some reason both of them felt the need to crouch below window level. “Haven’t you ever just felt the need to play, wherever?”

Naruto doesn’t get it, giving him a blank look before twisting and peeking over the mixers to the darkened studio.

“Like that? I dunno Sasuke, I can’t see very well but there’s some  _ serious  _ stick abuse going on in there.”

He makes a choked noise, and Sasuke twists to follow him onto his knees, but the other musician puts a heavy hand on his shoulder, pushing him back to the floor.

“Oh fuck, uh, it doesn’t look as though Sakura’s got any clothes on?”

“What?” Sasuke throws Naruto’s hand off his shoulder, attempting to look over the gently blinking recording equipment, but once again Naruto shoves him down, looking at him with an aghast expression.

“Let me up,” Sasuke presses, maneuvering into a position where he can better push against Naruto’s solid weight. “I’ve got better night vision than you.”

“ _ Exactly _ ,” Naruto exhales. “Don’t be a pervert.”

“I’m not-”

There’s a crash from next door, loud enough to echo through the soundproofing, and both young men look over the control panel to see a cymbal coming to a stop against the wall, flung off the kit as a result of Sakura’s ferocious drumming.

She doesn’t stop playing, and from the angle she’s bent over the kit Sasuke can see that she’s wearing - at least - some kind of bra and trousers. He feels the slightest hint of a blush across his cheeks, because it’s the first time he’s seen her, even though only dimly, wearing anything less than a massive jumper and jeans.

“She’s not naked,  _ usuratonkachi _ ,” Sasuke sighs, hand against his temple. “I don’t think there’s a problem, Sakura’s obviously just-”

He’s cut off by what sounds like demonic roaring from the recording room, and they turn back to the window to see their bandmate’s teeth bared in a snarl, her face a storm as she hits the kit with more abuse than they’ve ever seen. The analytical part of Sasuke notes that even enraged Sakura is still very, very good, a thought that registers as he exchanges a wide-eyed glance with his best friend and moves to back away.

“Maybe we should go,” he starts, about to suggest a hasty exit, but Naruto shakes his head vigorously.

“No way, you should stay here and make sure she doesn’t tear the studio up,” Naruto cautions. “I’d stay too, but…”

He looks away from Sasuke and eyes his bag, slung over the chair and the reason they’d returned to the studio in the first place. It’s Wednesday, the night of Naruto’s weekly ‘allowed’ dates with Hinata, and Sasuke knows how much it means to the pair of them to spend the time together, her overprotective father notwithstanding.

“Go,” Sasuke says, shooing the singer away and taking up residence in the central recording chair. “I’ll stay. Change the signs outside to say it’s occupied.”

Naruto nods fervently, glancing back at the sight of Sakura thrashing her arms around in the dim studio. “Will you let me know if she’s okay?”

Sasuke doesn’t reply, simply makes another shooing motion with his hand before putting his feet up on the powered-down electronics. Sakura’s playing reminds him of when he needs to lash out, an angered, frantic playing to channel some of the rage and annoyance he feels at his father, his brother, people who doubt him. Though he’s half-tempted to join in her vengeful sound Sasuke knows it’s not the kind of session to interrupt, and so he simply sits back and waits. It looks like it’s going to take some time, if the pile of shattered drumsticks indicates anything, and so he slides recording headphones on to better hear the sounds Sakura makes when she’s angry.

_ I must’ve fallen asleep,  _ he thinks some time later, coming to and realising he’s no longer listening to the music of Sakura’s rage.

The thought promptly abandons him as he feels hands removing the headphones from his ears, his black eyes springing open to find Sakura bent over his prone form, her face absurdly close to his.

“Sasuke,” she greets, and he tries to mask the way his heart leapt into his throat at her unexpected appearance. She hasn’t, he notices, turned the lights on. “What are you doing here?”

He blinks to clear his confusion, but all it does is wipe the sleep from his vision, drawing his attention to the way Sakura’s hair is darkened with sweat, her features even and curious in the dull light from the monitors. Inadvertently his gaze drifts lower, following the shine of sweat down the curve of her neck across her collarbones, down to where she cradles his headphones in one hand, the other balanced on the arm of his chair.

“Uh,” Sasuke manages, still looking at the way Sakura’s muscles shift with her slight movements. “Naruto thought you were having an artistic meltdown.” 

Above him, Sakura snorts, and he’s glad to hear she sounds amused rather than annoyed. “As you can see,” she taunts, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in her voice and she stands up, moving away from him, “I am not.”

“No,” he agrees. They look at each other in the dark for a moment, her chest still heaving from the exertion of her playing. He sits up properly in the chair, dropping his feet back to the ground. “Are you…?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning is clear, and Sakura nods at him before stretching her arms above her head in a drummer’s stance.

“I’m fine, Sasuke,” she says, but he misses it because he’s distracted by the way Sakura’s curves stretch and twist with her arms above her head. It is not, he realises, an opportune time to realise that muscles  _ kind of  _ appeal to him.

“Are you heading home?” he asks instead, hoping to dispel the warmth in his belly. “It’s late. And you know Naruto and Kakashi worry.”

He doesn’t include himself, but Sasuke knows that Sakura knows he worries, too.  

“I can look after myself,” Sakura replies, falling into an easy stance that speaks of long practice. “I do… some martial arts, sometimes.”

She smiles as he shakes his head in light exasperation, though with what he’s just seen and heard Sasuke is abruptly sure that she could, in most cases,  _ handle  _ it. The guitarist stands, plucking the headphones from her grip before putting a hand on his hip and his other in his pocket, jangling his keys.

“Hn, you don’t need a lift, then?” Sasuke says, a rare tease. It’s partly to cheer her up and partly to reassert himself, keep his cool at the uncomfortable realisation that he’s  _ kind of, fairly, maybe a little _ attracted to the way his drummer looks after she’s been working out.

“Ah, wait!” Sakura throws her hands out placatingly, rushing back into the studio where she’s cast her stuff around in whatever rage she’d been in earlier. “Could I please have a ride, Sasuke-kun?”

He pretends to consider it, although he’s already walking to hold the door open for her as they leave the studio.

“I guess,” he concedes, eventually, and has to turn his head to conceal the smirk that stretches across his mouth when she punches the air victoriously. Sakura hums all the way down to the car, and he holds back a laugh when he realises she’s singing along to one of their own songs.

Before he unlocks the door, Sasuke looks at his bandmate, standing expectantly by the passenger seat, her face open and her arms crossed against the cool of the car park.

“Take this,” he says, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and throwing it across the roof of the vehicle. She does, but he doesn’t expect her to thank him with laughter as she zips his coat up, falling into the seat beside him with a grin that he recognises as her most indulgent.

“Thanks,” she says brightly, her chin in hand as she watches him pull out of the garage. “I guess we’re both Prince Charming!”

Her nonsense doesn’t make any sense, and Sasuke just gives her a dirty look before pulling away into the night, but he’d be lying if he said the sound of her laughter wasn’t a relief after hearing her furious despair.

* * *

The next week, Ino debuts. It surprises everyone: Uchiha Studios follows a strict policy of introducing new talents as a group, so for Ino to appear outside of that window shakes the nest, from the press to the new talents to the members of Sakura’s group.

Perhaps worst of all, she finds out at the same time as the rest of the band. A runner comes in to grab Kakashi as they’re wrapping up practice, a well-dressed professional Sakura now recognises as his secretary Shizune.

“Kakashi-sama,” she murmurs respectfully, and while it’s easy to forget that Kakashi is an executive when he’s wearing faded old band t-shirts, working the strings and co-ordinating their practice, it’s impossible when Sakura sees the sleek clipboard embossed with his name that Shizune carries.

Nodding to get his charges to tidy up, Sakura tries to eavesdrop on their frazzled conversation but stops when she sees Sasuke’s disapproving frown. She’s tempted to stick her tongue out but that’s something she reserves for Naruto’s antics; and he’s as guilty as she is, giving his best friend a hang-dog stare that’s met with utter stoicness as the Uchiha makes them set the practice room to rights.

“Guys,” Kakashi says, retrieving the clipboard and dismissing Shizune with a nod and a sigh. “You might want to hear this.”

“Shizune’s talking to you again?” Naruto asks. While she didn’t know the specifics of it, Sakura is well aware that Kakashi had fallen out with his capable aide. She’s privately convinced it’s because he’s working at least two jobs simultaneously: that must trickle down into the brown-haired woman’s day to day.

“Unfortunately,” Kakashi mutters darkly. “No, this is…”

He trails off and catches Sakura’s eye.

_ Oh, shit, have they found out about the gym?  _ Sakura’s pretty sure Sasuke kept their discussion to himself and he’s not the type to talk about others, but Kakashi is obviously trying to communicate something to her wordlessly. It’s simply not clear  _ what.  _ She gives him her most winsome smile, but it just makes his brows draw together even further.

“Yamanaka Ino… Sakura’s friend Ino has just announced her debut.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence before Naruto explodes. Surprisingly, so does Sasuke, both musicians echoing various iterations of  _ what?  _ and  _ but it’s not time  _ loudly while Kakashi shushes them and tries to keep talking. Sakura pays no heed to the clamour, because her world has just been turned upside down.

“What?” she croaks, and Naruto’s tirade chokes off as he turns to stare at her incredulously.

“You didn’t  _ know _ ?”

“No- no, Ino didn’t, she didn’t…”

She’s two blinks away from tears when Sasuke folds his arms like he expected it, giving her his best authoritative stare. “Well, that’s rivalry, isn’t it?” he states, and though Naruto shoves him with an appalled expression it actually makes Sakura feel better.

It’s true; Ino is her dearest friend but she’s also her strongest rival, and though they’d promised to divide and conquer, the best thing about their friendship was the push and pull of power between them, a force that makes Sakura strive to better herself.

“I- I guess it is,” she agrees, trying valiantly to hold back the lingering sniff from her tone. There’s an instant where Sasuke’s eyes soften just enough for her to notice, an expression on his face that tells her he understands. And he does: sometimes, when they’re driving home, Sasuke will open up just enough to tell her about his brother Itachi and their difficult relationship, fraught as it is with mutual affection warring with Sasuke’s own feelings of incompetence. It’s very, very similar to the way Sakura feels with Ino, and so his silent support means more than she suspects he knows.

“Mah...this really is a mess,” Kakashi states, bringing her back to the present. “Obito’s probably doing this partially to get on my nerves: I know he’s annoyed I haven’t had you guys perform yet.” 

“Perform?” Sakura queries. She prefers not to think about the Uchiha executive, lest her disgust shine on her face. He is, after all, Sasuke’s cousin and one of Kakashi’s closest friends.

“Mm,” Naruto says, his eyes scrunched up in his thinking pose. “Usually we’d be taking turns to perform with the other newbies on the in-house stage, ya know? I heard we’re a bit talked about, ‘cause nobody has heard us play.”

“I had no idea!”

Sakura looks down at her drumsticks, set neatly in her hands, and clenches her fists to avoid spinning them anxiously. The news about Ino hasn’t quite sunk in yet; although it explains why she’s been unable to get through to her friend except for by text since the singer was swept away by Obito.

“Yeah,” Naruto continues, “we get to be secretive and stuff on account of the bastard here.”

Sasuke shoots him a dirty look but doesn’t dignify the tease with an answer. They all know that if it’s anyone’s fault it’s Kakashi’s, and he gives the three musicians a grin that’s decidedly guilty when they turn to stare at him.

“Well,” he says, “I’ll go see what’s happened here, so why don’t you three finish for the day?”

_ That’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one.  _ There’s nothing to counter it with: at the end of the day he’s the closest thing to a boss they have, and Sakura isn’t about to jeopardise what she has by pushing the exec for info. No… that’ll come from Ino’s father, who just happens to be one of her biggest fans.

“Cha…” Sakura sighs, resisting the urge to rub her eyes in exasperation. “I  need a drink. Ichiraku’s?”

Naruto’s already nodding, even Sasuke looks amenable to the idea, and frankly she’s glad because Naruto never stops at just  _ one _ . And she feels like getting drunk enough to forget that yet again, Ino was good enough to get there first.

Kakashi waits until they’ve filed out of the doorway to speak, leaning against the door with an expression that’s nothing short of devious.

“Guys,” he calls, and Sakura catches his wink when she turns back fastest. “Time to think of a name, okay?”

Naruto looks utterly shocked and even Sasuke is stunned speechless, so it’s up to Sakura to clarify.

“For… for the band?”

Kakashi grins harder. “For the band. A little hard to debut without one, right?”

From beside her, Sasuke swallows audibly. “Are we really ready?” he challenges carefully. Sakura knows he really respects the older musician: she does too, his lackadaisical nature aside. “Or are you butting heads with my cousin again?”

The silver-haired guitarist shrugs. “I think you’re ready,” he says with such conviction Sakura instantly believes him. “But I also think you know something about rivalry, huh?”

With that, he pushes off the doorway, waving at them before walking purposefully towards the central suites.

“Remember it’s to be catchy!” Kakashi calls, cupping his hands and directing his attention towards Sakura. “So ask Naruto before he’s had three drinks and Sasuke  _ after _ !”

* * *

“Teuuuuchi,” Naruto slurs. “What do you think of this?”

He’s half-slumped over the booth table, and due to Ayame replacing the beers with alacrity Sakura can't tell how many he’s had. It’s  _ definitely  _ more than three. Sasuke is on at least his sixth, his expression blank as he tries harder and harder to stay composed.

The Ichiraku proprietor takes the scribbled note politely, turning it a few times to try and decipher Naruto’s atrocious handwriting.

“Naruto,” he pronounces in his gruff, careful way, “this is unreadable.”

“Ahhh?”

If Sakura wasn’t familiar with the blonde by now, she’d think his expression aggressive as he tilts his head back up, but Teuchi has known him for years, and simply repeats his statement.

“No way,” Naruto replies, “this is the best idea I’ve had all night.”

The ramen chef pats him on the shoulder, surreptitiously placing the water jug out of his reach before retreating. They’ve been trying to come up with names for hours; Kakashi’s parting statement had been followed up with a brief  _ I’m serious  _ text to Sasuke, and Ichiraku’s had been graced with progressively weirder suggestions until the three of them were slumped in the corner.

Sakura thinks the  _ izakaya _ might even have closed hours ago, but she’s not going to drag herself up from her position gripping the table if she doesn’t have to.

“Sasuke, read it,” Naruto commands, thrusting the ramen-stained napkin at his best friend. It’s testament to how drunk the guitarist is that he accepts the dirty paper without protest.

“I can’t,” the Uchiha says after a moment, and Sakura bites her lip because he’s surprisingly  _ cute  _ when he’s properly drunk, something she’s discovering for the first time.

“Bastard... use your amazing eyesight or vision or whatever,” Naruto complains.

“No, I can’t,” Sasuke repeats, and Sakura watches as he squints ever so slightly. “I can’t read.”

“You can’t  _ read _ ?” Sakura can’t help it. “At all?”

“It’s dark.” Sasuke sounds so defensive she can’t hold back the laughter, causing him to give her the kind of glare he reserves for Naruto.

She’s drunk enough to wink at him, blushing herself when he visibly colours up at the gesture.

“ _ I  _ will read it,” Naruto proclaims suddenly, breaking the moment. “I just wanted someone else to for like, you know, effect.”

“And when you wanted effect with the first six suggestions…?”

The blonde ignores Sasuke, holding the paper up in front of him and looking so serious - and so pissed - that Sakura’s close to laughing again.

“Okay, how about this,” he starts. “I think we should go with something that sounds cool, and can be shortened so it’s catchy, and has, ya know, a meaning contained in it that’s just for us.”

“That… actually sounds sensible.” Sasuke’s tone is begrudgingly impressed, and Sakura nods in agreement, making Naruto’s grin stretch even wider.

“I think we should be called Dai-Nana-Han _. _ ”

He says it with obvious pride in his voice, and Sakura has to admit it rolls off the tongue. As for the meaning...

“Explain.”

Sasuke beats her to it, and there’s silence after he speaks, because Naruto’s frowning at the way his effect has been ruined.

“I was  _ gonna _ -”

“-then  _ do _ -”

The drummer senses a fight brewing: she’s a good mediator sober, but drunk Sakura hasn’t her better self’s patience, so she simply slams both palms down onto the old table, causing Teuchi to jump from his perch across the room.

“What does it mean, Naruto?” her voice is even but her expression doesn’t brook nonsense, so the blonde clears his throat and talks them through it, tracing his finger across the beer-soaked table to illustrate his point.

“Well, we’ve got  _ dai _ , big, because we’re aiming for greatness, ya know? And then  _ nana _ , for seven, because that’s the age that Sasuke and I first met…”

He trails off, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

“And  _ han _ ?” Sakura prompts, because in truth, she’s pretty sold, and if Sasuke’s silence says anything then he is too. 

“Uh… please don’t be annoyed,” Naruto hedges, making her raise a thin pink eyebrow. “But I was thinking  _ han _ , for  _ hana _ , because, well… I guess…”

He blushes across the bridge of his cheeks and it’s adorable, even if Sakura’s sure he’s about to say something insulting.

“ _ Hana _ , or flower, ‘cause what I’m trying to say, Sakura-chan, is that you’ve come along and been like- like our flower. Ya know? Lovely, and just what we needed to grow.”

Blinking wide green eyes at the unexpectedly heartfelt statement, Sakura’s mouth opens and closes a few times before Sasuke cuts in.

“I like it,” he says, and in his acceptance is the implication that he agrees with Naruto’s words. “What about you?”

He turns to Sakura as she leans against the table, feeling the ferocious heat of her own blush warming her entire face. “It’s.. it’s good.” 

“Annnnnd it shortens well,” Naruto continues, reaching across the table tentatively to take both her hand and Sasuke’s. Neither of them shrug him off. “DNH. Cool, ne?”

_ We must be really, really drunk _ , Sakura considers, because Sasuke’s not the touchy-feely type and she’s sure there’s the hint of a tear in Naruto’s eye. They sit for a moment, nobody speaking, and Sakura thinks that if they really do make it big then it’ll be a shame none of them are likely to remember this moment with any clarity.

“Teuchi-san!” she calls, partly to beg another round and partly to hide the way her voice wants to crack, “what do you think of Dai-Nana-Han?”

His dourly-delivered thumbs up tells the trio all they need to know.

“DNH,” Sasuke repeats, and Sakura watches the way his mouth shapes the letters.

“And there we have it,” Sakura says, giving him her best smile and causing his lips to quirk up irresistibly.

They all grin unabashedly at each other, even Sasuke, when Teuchi caves in and brings them another round of Konoha Dry. And Sakura realises, just for a moment, that she’s forgotten all about being upset when Sasuke takes her free hand with his own, giving it a squeeze that she feels right the way down to her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 ends on a heartfelt note, haha. I apologise for my blatant twisting of Japanese to make Dai-Nana-Han seem at all plausible for a band name. In case you're unaware, that's the Japanese version of Team 7! I tried my hardest but that does not sound good.
> 
> A bit of an aside: the lyrics at the top come from an English band called The Adverts, a punk rock band from the 70s with a kick ass female bassist called Gaye Advert, who is widely regarded as one of the first female icons of punk. I see a lot of my Sakura in her as she was often described as photogenic, but like she could really kick your ass.


End file.
